


A Simple Question (In Theory)

by flawedamythyst



Series: Seduction By Winglet [12]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6350944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin and Tony have been living together for nearly a year now. So, what's the next level of commitment after cohabitation?</p><p>Huge thanks to 1electricpirate for betaing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Martin woke up to find Tony sprawled over him, one leg tucked between his and an arm draped over his chest. That was good, that meant Tony hadn't had any nightmares last night. He was generally an affectionate sleeper, taking up as much of the bed as he could, but when he had a nightmare, he curled up on the edge of the bed with his back to Martin, arms locked over his arc reactor.

Martin stroked a hand down Tony's arm, then gently moved it and slid out from underneath him. Tony made an irritated grumbling noise and blinked open his eyes to glare at Martin.

"I'm making coffee," said Martin, which eased most of the frown. "Do you want some, or are you going back to sleep?"

Tony blinked at the clock and sighed. "Coffee," he said, turning onto his back and stretching.

Watching his muscles shift as his arms flexed above his head made Martin want to just crawl back into bed with him, but doing that was bound to make him late for work. Certainly the times he'd done it before had ended with a mad rush to get there in time, which had occasionally included either the Quinjet or the Iron Man suit. He couldn't keep doing that.

He went into his sitting room next door, which had the closest coffee machine, then brought the mugs back into the bedroom. Tony had got as far as sitting up while JARVIS ran through the weather report and main news headlines.

His eyes riveted on the coffee and he held out his hands. "Ooh, gimme, gimme."

Martin handed it over and then sat down beside him to drink his own.

"Got much on today?"

"Loads," said Tony, with a sigh. "You'd think everything for the gala tonight would be sorted by this stage, but no chance. You probably won't see me when you get in from work, I'll be going straight there."

Which meant Martin wouldn't see him again until tomorrow morning, and wouldn't talk to him until much later than that. When Tony had a gala or dinner, Martin was almost always asleep by the time he got back, and then Tony slept in late the next day. At least Martin wasn't working tomorrow, so he'd be home whenever Tony finally woke up.

Tony set his mug down on the bedside table so that he could yawn again, then ran a hand over Martin's shoulder. "Guessing we don't have time for a quickie?"

Martin hesitated, but shook his head. "Sorry. Our first flight is one of the longer ones, we'll need to get off on time to be back for the next."

Tony made a face. "Okay, fine, but I just want to put it on record that it's unfair how many of your freckles are on display when I'm not allowed to get up close and personal with them."

"Then I suppose that's a sign I should go and have a shower," said Martin, standing up.

Tony let out a sad noise but let him go. "Damn our busy lives," he said. "We need to go on a dirty weekend somewhere sometime. Me, you, a bed, nothing but time on our hands. Oh yeah. You haven't been to my ski lodge in Aspen, have you?"

Martin had a mental image of tumbling head over heels down a mountainside, screaming in panic. "Ah, I'm not sure I'd be very good at skiing."

Tony waved that away. "Doesn't matter, we wouldn't do any actual skiing, just curl up with blankets and hot chocolate and, you know, huge amounts of sweaty sex."

"I could probably manage that," said Martin. "Especially the last part."

"The last part is the best part," said Tony. He gave Martin a narrow-eyed look. “You'd really be up for that? I figured you'd freak out about, you know, vacationing in luxury and insist that we get a camping or something.”

Martin shrugged. “You already have the lodge, right? No point in letting it sit empty.”

Tony gave him a wide smile. “Awesome. We'll find a long weekend for that, then.”

Martin smiled back and headed into the bathroom.

****

Most days, the first thing Martin did when he came home from work was retreat to his room and update his logbook. Well, unless Tony was lying in wait to drag him into their bedroom, which happened more often than Martin would have thought, even after nearly a year of living together.

Today, with Tony out, Martin changed out of his uniform into something more comfortable and then settled on the sofa in his room with his logbook.

"JARVIS, add three take-offs and three landings at Linden Airport to the map," he said.

The numbers on the map scrolled up. Linden Airport now had the highest numbers by far, even more than Fitton, which was what happened when you did several flights a day in and out of the same airport. Sometimes he missed getting the chance to go to other airports but then he remembered that if he was still flying all over the world, he wouldn't be waking up with Tony beside him every morning.

When his log book was up to date, he stood and strode over to the window, looking out at the sky over Manhattan. A 747 was going over, probably on the way to JFK, and he could see another plane in the distance, too small to be recognised.

He had the whole evening to himself. A number of options trickled through his mind before he decided to just get a sandwich and spend the evening on Microsoft Flight Simulator. That would give him the chance to practise other airports, even if it was only as a simulation.

As he headed towards the kitchen for his sandwich, he was surprised to find all the Avengers except Tony in the lounge, all dressed in black tie. Well, three of them were in black tie, Natasha was in a slinky black ball gown, and Thor was wearing his best cloak and shiniest wrist braces.

"Uh. Hello," he said. They all glanced up at him, making him feel horribly self-conscious. He paused halfway down the stairs.

A faint frown crossed Steve's face. "Aren't you coming?"

"Coming where?" asked Martin.

"Tony's gala," said Clint. "The big event of the charity season, all the crème-de-la-crème will be there."

"Oh," said Martin. "No, I'm not going."

Natasha and Clint exchanged looks.

"Did Tony ask you?" said Bruce.

Martin thought back. "Not really. I mean, he mentioned it, but only in passing, and he didn't sound as if he was bothered about me going or not. He goes to lots of galas, he knows I don't really like going to them with him."

More looks were exchanged.

"This one is a little different," said Steve, carefully.

"Martin," said Natasha. "You must have noticed by now that Tony is most off-hand and dismissive of the things that are particularly personal and important to him."

Martin's mouth went dry. Oh god. He did know that.

_"Hey, there's this thing in a couple of weeks, usual sort of stuff – dinner, dancing, totally unpleasant rich people – just wondered if you wanted to tag along? No big deal if not, I know it's not really your kind of thing."_

What was wrong with him? All the signs were there. Tony might as well have made a massive neon sign that said THIS IS IMPORTANT TO ME.

"Oh god," he said. "And you're all going? Even Bruce."

"Even me," confirmed Bruce, dryly. "It's the annual Maria Stark Foundation gala. They're the charity that fund reconstruction and provide aid after an Avengers incident, as well as a whole lot of other things. Tony likes us all to be there."

"Oh," said Martin, the bottom falling out of his stomach.

"I'm sure it won't matter," said Thor, not sounding as if he believed himself. "Tony understands that such events are not to your taste."

Tony probably did. He'd never say a word about it again, he'd just let the event go by every year without ever mentioning to Martin that he'd actually quite like him to come.

Martin couldn't let that happen. He took a deep breath. "If I'm going to spend my life with him, I should probably get used to these sorts of events," he said, more to himself than the Avengers but, of course, he was stupid enough to actually say it out loud.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Spend your life with him?"

Martin felt himself start to go pink but he fought down the blush. He'd been thinking increasingly in the long-term about this whole thing, even though he knew Tony wasn't the marriage type. He wanted to be with Tony for as long as possible, for their whole lives, or at least until Tony got bored and kicked him out.

Of course, Martin would have a much better chance of staying with Tony for longer if he made sure to be with him for the important things.

"Are you leaving now?" He glanced down at the lounging-around-the-house clothes he was wearing. "Can you wait fifteen minutes?"

"Of course," said Steve.

"We could probably be way later than that and Tony wouldn't care if we brought you with us," said Clint, moving to collapse onto a sofa. “He's going to be so stoked.”

****

Clint was probably the Avenger that Martin got on with the best, after Tony. He was certainly the least intimidating, especially once Martin had seen him in purple pyjama bottoms drinking coffee straight from the pot. And, of course, it helped that he was the main pilot for the Avengers, which gave Martin something in common with him.

He wasn't in the penthouse as much as Steve and Bruce, who lived there full-time, although he tended to drop in every day or two, usually in order to take advantage of either the gym, the range, or the enormous television in the main common area.

The gym was where they'd first really started talking. Martin had never really been the gym type. He hadn't needed to be when he'd had Icarus Removals, between the exercise he got moving boxes and the strict diet he'd had to save money. Since getting a salary, though, he'd noticed he was losing muscle and even getting a bit soft in places.

He'd thought about going to a gym a few times when he'd been living in Fitton, but the idea conjured up various, rather terrifying images of super-fit athletic types standing around laughing at him. Once he'd moved to New York, he had access to the private gym at the penthouse, but he'd have had to use it alongside a god, a super-soldier, and two people who had dedicated themselves to reaching the peak of human physical perfection in order to keep up with said god and super-soldier.

Tony exercised fairly often though, and after a few weeks living with him, Martin began to really feel like he was letting himself go. He might not be able to make himself taller, or less red-faced, but he could at least try and keep a bit in shape so that Tony didn't one day turn around and actually notice the disparity in their relative levels of attractiveness.

He started creeping down to the gym at odd times when Tony was busy in his workshop and JARVIS had confirmed that no one else was in there. It worked really well until the day Clint wandered in while he was on the running machine and gave him a cheery wave.

"Afternoon."

Martin froze up as if he'd been caught committing a crime, then hurriedly started moving again when he almost fell off the back of the treadmill. "Um. Hi."

Clint obviously didn't think twice about Martin's presence as he set about going through his own work-out routine. Martin doggedly continued with his, but it felt like his skin was crackling with self-consciousness.

He forced himself to finish running but prepared for a quick exit after he finished. Clint was already doing sets of terrifyingly intense exercises that Martin wouldn't have believed were physically possible if he hadn't seen them for himself. He wasn't sure he could have done that many push-ups using both arms, let alone one.

"You coming to the group dinner tomorrow night?" he asked as Martin prepared to skedaddle with his tail between his legs. The bastard didn't even sound out of breath.

"Uh," said Martin. "I didn't think I was invited. I'm not on the team."

Clint rolled his eyes, then leapt to his feet and started doing squats on only one leg. "'Course you're invited. You're on Tony's team, aren't you? Thor's bringing Jane."

"Oh, okay," said Martin. "I guess I'll come, then."

Clint beamed at him. "Awesome." He swapped legs with a little jump that made Martin's muscles tremble at just the thought of attempting it. "Hey, you heading out?"

"Uh, yes," said Martin, backing away towards the door before he got roped in to trying something that would leave him with a ruptured spine.

He escaped, feeling like a coward.

Two weeks later, it happened again. He'd only just started his work out when Clint arrived through one of the ventilation ducts, startling the life out of him.

"Heya," he said, then noticed that Martin had jumped out of his skin. "Oh, sorry. I should probably let you know before I do that."

"Please," managed Martin, between wheezes.

"Could be worse," said Clint, starting his warm-up. "When I terrify most of the others, I get walloped. They tend to react to surprises with violence."

Martin forced himself to continue his work-out, despite Clint's presence. He was here for a reason, a perfectly fine, understandable, non-embarrassing reason. He didn't need to hide from him. He really didn't.

"I don't think I've ever reacted to anything with violence," he said. "Not even to violence. More, um, pathetic whimpering."

Clint raised an eyebrow. "You know how to throw a punch though, right?"

Martin shrugged. "Make a fist and hit someone with it?"

Clint stopped moving. "Oh man, no. No, okay, we gotta do something about that. You can't live with Earth's Mightiest Heroes and not know how to deck someone when you need to."

"Oh, I don't–" started Martin, but was over-ruled.

"Nope. Come here," said Clint, heading over to one of the many punch bags that hung around the gym. "Besides, even if you never hit anyone, it's still a good work out for the arms, right?"

Martin gave in.

After that, Clint turned up when Martin was working out about once a week and taught him a couple of different punches, and even tried him on a kick before they agreed he wasn't nearly co-ordinated enough for that. He was the first Avenger that Martin was properly able to relax around (other than Tony, of course) and the first one he was really able to point to as a friend.

****

Martin dashed back up the stairs to his and Tony's bedroom, his mind whirling. Suit, he needed a suit. Thank god Tony casually left tailor-made suits in his size hanging in their wardrobe every so often.

Bow tie, he had a bow tie somewhere and even if he couldn't find it, Tony had hundreds, he could borrow one. He wasn't sure he'd be able to tie it but he was sure that someone would be able to help him on the way over.

Shoes, there were shoes for the suits as well. And all of Tony's fitted him anyway. Right, good. He glanced at himself in the mirror and caught sight of his hair. Oh god, he was never going to fit in with all those rich, posh types.

He took a deep breath. It didn't matter if he fitted in as long as Tony was pleased he was there.

He went back downstairs with his bow tie loose around his neck, combing his fingers through his hair.

Clint gave a short whistle. "Looking sharp, Crieff."

Martin sent him a sour look. "I did my best." He resisted the urge to scrub at his hair in the hopes it would magically become something other than a bit flat and incredibly ginger.

Clint bounded off the sofa. "Wasn't being sarcastic," he said. "Can I do your bow tie, or are you gonna accuse me of coming on to you?"

"Please do," said Martin.

Clint stepped closer and tied it with nimble fingers. "Okay, there you go. Tony's gonna be knocked dead."

Martin managed a weak smile through the nerves that were beginning to bubble up in his stomach.

"JARVIS, is the car waiting?" asked Steve.

"The limo is in Parking Lot Five," said JARVIS.

"Okay," said Bruce, taking a deep breath and pulling down his jacket. "Let's do this."

"We shall revel like kings!" announced Thor, bouncing eagerly towards the lift.

"I really feel you haven't got the hang of how tedious charity galas always are," said Clint, following him.

Steve frowned. "It's an honour and a privilege to be able to help a charity as worthwhile as the Maria Stark Foundation."

Martin caught Natasha rolling her eyes and had to suppress a smile.

"So, spending your life with Tony, huh?" asked Clint when they were all in the limo.

Martin failed to stop himself blushing and turned to stare out of the window in the hope of hiding it.

"Does that mean we should be trying to work out how to keep super-villains away from a wedding?" continued Clint. "Because having been around for Reed and Sue's many failed attempts at that, I'm thinking we'll need to start planning now."

Martin twitched. "Tony isn't really the marrying kind."

All the Avengers exchanged looks. Martin glared at them. "Don't give each other those looks. You know as well as I do that traditional commitment isn't his style."

"You're an exception for him, in lots of ways," said Bruce, carefully.

Martin scowled out the window. The truth was that he would like to marry Tony, or at least have it in mind as a plan for the future, but he didn't think he'd have a hope of ever getting Tony to agree. It would have to be enough that he knew Tony loved him and wanted him around for the foreseeable future.

It wasn't as if Martin had ever seriously thought he'd get married anyway. It was fine.

When they arrived at the gala, there was a red carpet surrounded by the press to brave. Martin took a deep breath as he looked out at the throng.

"I know it's daunting," said Steve. "Don't worry, we'll protect you."

Clint clapped Martin's shoulder. "Head up, smile on, ignore everything they say."

Like being at a family gathering, then. Martin could do that.

Natasha got out first, which drew the attention of the majority of the photographers. Martin took a deep breath and followed her out, plastering on a smile that he hoped didn't look as manic as it felt.

The reporters all immediately lost interest in yelling questions about who designed Natasha's dress in their excitement at the rare opportunity to ask deeply personal questions of Tony Stark's reclusive boyfriend. Martin forced the smile to stay on, managed a bit of a wave, and resolutely ignored the questions being fired at him.

Bruce got out and stood next to him, which made some of the worst questions die back a bit. Even the most rabid tabloid reporter wasn't so desperate to get personal details about Tony Stark's sex life that they'd risk the Hulk coming out.

"The faster we run the gauntlet, the faster we get to the canapés," said Bruce. "Come on."

The Avengers swept down the red carpet with Martin in their midst and for once Martin didn't mind how much shorter he was than most of them, because it kept him almost completely out of view. They reached the door and hustled in, leaving the flashes and shouted questions behind. Martin took a deep breath.

The gala was in a giant hall filled with elegantly-dressed people, all of whom turned to stare as Earth's Mightiest Heroes entered. It was hard to enter a room stealthily when one of you was wearing a bright red cloak.

Tony spotted them and came bounding over. "Don't think I didn't notice that you're late, guys, or that Pepper hasn't also noticed, expect a–"

Steve moved to one side and Tony's eyes fell on Martin. He stopped in the middle of his sentence and stared. "Spitfire! You came!"

The look on his face made Martin overwhelmingly relieved he'd come, even if there were photos of him looking like a terrified rodent being posted all over the internet as they spoke.

"Well, it was either this or another evening playing Flight Simulator," he said.

"You love playing Flight Simulator," said Tony, stepping forward to take his hands.

He wasn't wrong. Martin just shrugged.

Tony squeezed his hands and glanced around at the other Avengers. "What are you all staring at? Go; mingle. Make rich people feel special and important so that they open their wallets."

"Verily, we will bring great gains to your charitable endeavour," said Thor. Clint dashed off a sloppy salute, and they dispersed.

"What's my role?" asked Martin.

"Easy as anything," said Tony. "Just stay close to me and keep me from dying of boredom."

"I can do that."

"Course you can," said Tony. "Just, I can't guarantee that you won't suffer the same fate. You're about to have the same conversation thirty times. Be prepared."

"That just means that by the thirtieth time, I might be good at it," said Martin.

Tony waved that away. "Don't be ridiculous, you'll be awesome from the start."

Martin seriously doubted that but he wasn't given a chance to respond. Pepper swept up with the first set of guests for Tony to charm into emptying their pockets and he was launched into the first of their multiple identical conversations.

"Oh, the reclusive boyfriend! Pleased to finally meet you."

"I can't believe Tony finally let you out!"

"You're a pilot, aren't you? Do you work for Stark Industries?"

"How fascinating to finally meet the man who pinned the famous Tony Stark down!"

Martin just smiled until his face started to ache, mouthed polite nothings and tried very, very hard not to start babbling. Tony kept an arm around his waist and cut in to answer anything that Martin was clearly stumped by, taking every chance to turn the conversation to the Maria Stark Foundation and the work it did, and _have you seen the items in the Silent Auction, I'm sure there's something there you could bid on._

Waiters were everywhere with trays of champagne and Martin could see Tony's eyes tracking them during the most boring conversations. He rested his hand on Tony's as casually as he could and gave it a squeeze. He'd never properly realised how difficult it must be for Tony to avoid alcohol at these sorts of things, where it was being handed around so freely.

Dinner was at a round table that included two senators and the CEO of an international business conglomerate, but Martin had Tony on one side and Pepper on the other, so he was just about able to cope.

Tony was on top form, leading the conversation, making sure everyone was having a good time, gently encouraging people to keep spending money. Martin kept as quiet as he could to avoid making a fool of himself. For the first time since Tony had given up drinking and Martin had all but done the same in solidarity, he really wanted a drink. Just something to take the edge off his jangling nerves.

After dinner came the speeches. Tony gave an introduction to the main speaker, Claudia Bayley, who was the head of the Foundation, and then sat back down and leaned over to Martin.

"So, she'll ramble for a bit, then Cap will give the briefest talk he can manage about how the Foundation supports the Avengers and they're incredibly grateful and yadda yadda yadda. Then the dancing starts and we can all relax a bit. Maybe even try and have some fun, but I wouldn't bank on it."

"Okay," said Martin, nodding.

Tony hesitated. "Thing is, I open the dancing. Usually I do it with Pepper, which I can still totally do, we've done it hundreds of times, but, uh, as you're here–"

"You want me to dance with you, in front of all these people," realised Martin. Just the thought of it made his chest tighten with panic.

"Not if you don't want to," said Tony quickly. "Just, you know, I'd always rather dance with you than Pepper. I can get the band to put on something super simple and it'll only be a minute or two before everyone else joins in."

Martin took a deep breath and considered it. He and Tony had danced together a few times since their first dance in the Taj Mahal so Martin could just about manage to get through a song without treading on any feet, but he was well aware that there was nothing graceful or elegant in his attempts.

He wanted to say no. He wanted to say no _really badly_ , but Tony was still watching his face, and there was more than a hint of hope in his eyes.

"It's okay, no big deal, I'll do it with Pepper," said Tony as the silence stretched out. "Probably better that way, anyway, what people are expecting. No, it's cool, we can dance later on anyway."

Oh god. That was his 'this is important to me so I'm pretending I don't care' tone of voice.

Martin put his hand on Tony's thigh and gave it a squeeze. "You're not allowed to mock me if I mess up."

Tony's face lit up and he grabbed Martin's hand. “You won't mess up,” he said. “You'll be perfect. You always are.”

It was every bit as terrifying as Martin had known it would be. Tony led him to the very centre of the dance floor, where the entire room stared at them.

"Keep calm, focus on me," said Tony. "You lead, I'll keep my feet out of your way and it'll be totally fine. Just me and you, yeah?"

Martin stared at him with dumbstruck horror. "You want _me_ to lead?!"

"Trust me," said Tony. "Go nuts."

For a moment Martin thought he was going to choke on sheer terror. Tony put one hand on Martin's shoulder, took the other in his hand, and gave him a wink.

_You can do this,_ Martin told himself. _Come on, be confident._

No confidence was forth-coming. He put his own, shaking, hands on Tony.

"Ignore everyone else," said Tony. "It's just you and me, yeah? Pretend we're messing about at home."

Martin nodded jerkily as the band started up. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to picture their bedroom at home, and took a first step.

Miraculously, it was the right one. Tony moved with him as he took the next one, muscle-memory kicking in despite his nerves. He opened his eyes to find Tony beaming at him and managed a smile back, which only made Tony look happier.

"You're doing awesome," he said, under his breath.

Martin thought 'awesome' was probably over-selling it, but he hadn't crashed and burned yet. That was enough to let confidence begin to seep back in.

"You wanna risk a twirl?" asked Tony, after they'd made it through nearly a minute without Martin messing up.

"God, no," said Martin.

Tony laughed. "Fair enough." His eyes focused over Martin's shoulder as he gave a meaningful look at someone. A moment later, Pepper led Steve out onto the dance floor, followed by Natasha and Clint. Within seconds, the dance floor was filling up with other couples and Martin was able to let out a sigh of relief.

"You were fine," said Tony. "Best opening this thing has ever had."

Martin laughed shakily. "Liar."

"Hey, as far as I'm concerned, you're always the best dance partner," said Tony. "Screw what anyone else says."

"Flatter me all you like, I'm still not twirling you," said Martin.

It was very late by the time they headed home. Bruce left early and Thor had joined a group who were heading off to an after-party, but the other Avengers stayed to the end, by which time Martin was slumped in a chair, trying to keep his eyes open. He'd ended up dancing with Tony quite a bit, as well as with Pepper a couple of times and Natasha once, which might just be the single most terrifying thing he'd ever done.

In the limo, he slumped against Tony's side and Tony draped his arm around his shoulders.

"Not long till we're home, Spitfire," he said cheerfully, sounding not even the slightest bit tired.

Clint, Steve and Natasha didn't look tired either, which seemed unfair when Martin felt as if he'd been awake for days. Not for the first time, Martin considered that living with a group of superheroes was not good for his self-esteem.

"That was more dancing than you usually do," said Clint to Tony.

Tony shrugged the shoulder that Martin wasn't leaning on. "Used to be, I'd avoid dancing cos it's hard to do with a glass in your hand. Now I seem to be doing it more to try and stop myself picking a glass up."

"I expect it helps that you've got someone to dance with now who isn't one of those awful society dames," said Steve.

"True," said Tony. "Taking a boyfriend along is an excellent way to duck all those women who've read the Most Eligible Bachelors list."

"Dancing with Martin like that was a pretty clear signal you're not a bachelor anymore," said Clint.

"In fact, it was a pretty good practice for a first dance at a wedding," added Natasha.

Martin froze up. He felt Tony twitch as he let out a choked laugh.

"You're kidding, right? You know marriage isn't exactly on the cards for someone like me, not my scene at all. Waste of time, anyway. It's a pointless load of sentimental claptrap surrounding a contract neither party will end up sticking to."

Martin's throat felt like it was closing up. Oh. Oh wow. That was Tony's 'this is important to me so I'm pretending I don't care' tone. His eyes widened. Clint met his eyes and twitched a meaningful eyebrow at him, and he realised that this whole conversation had been a set up.

Oh god. He was going to have to work out how to propose to Tony Stark.

****

Shortly after he'd moved to New York, Martin had been unpacking in his sitting room when Tony had come to him with a serious look on his face.

"I kinda need you to come with me. There's something we need to do."

Martin looked up from where he was getting his flight manuals into the right order before putting them on the shelf. "If it's another place you've thought of where we need to have sex, can it wait an hour for me to finish this?"

"It's not, but I'm shocked and horrified that you'd prioritise unpacking over having sex," said Tony, putting his hands over his heart in an expression of mock-hurt.

"If I get this done now, I won't have it hanging over me, and we can stay in bed for the rest of the day," Martin pointed out.

Tony grinned. "I like your thinking. Okay, fine, sex after you've got everything unpacked. I can cope with that. This is something else though, it'll only take fifteen minutes, tops."

Martin looked at the box he was emptying. It was still very full.

Tony noticed his glance. "Promise you'll get back to this straight after. Besides, isn't it time for a coffee break?"

Oh, a coffee would be good. Martin stood up. "Yeah, okay."

Tony grinned. "I knew the promise of coffee would get you. JARVIS, put the machine in the workshop on for me, yeah?"

"Putting coffee on now, sir," said JARVIS.

"Excellent," said Tony, wrapping an arm around Martin's shoulders. "Let's go get this done."

"Get what done?" asked Martin, letting himself be guided in the direction of the lift. “What's in the workshop? I think we've had sex pretty much everywhere in there already. Well, everywhere that's safe.”

“I told you, it's not sex,” said Tony, and gave a little shrug. "It's just a thing. The stupid kinda thing that you get if you move in with a bunch of superheroes. No biggie. It'll be totally cool."

"Uh, right," said Martin as they got into the lift. Something about the blasé tone of Tony's voice made him think there was rather more to it than that, especially as it sounded too much like Tony was trying to convince him. He started to get nervous. What if they needed to do some kind of check to make sure he wasn't a spy? What if they were going to drug him or torture him or–

No. No, Tony wouldn't do that to him. Martin took a deep breath. It was probably nothing.

Tony squeezed his arm. "You kinda look like you're gonna pass out," he said. "Seriously, don't panic, it's nothing painful. Well, nothing painful for you.”

"That's not incredibly reassuring," said Martin as the lift doors opened.

"Ah, don't sweat it," said Tony. He kissed Martin before they headed into the workshop. "Just a quick thing, little training session, then coffee, yeah?"

"Training session?" repeated Martin.

"Yeah," said Tony. "JARVIS, do me a favour, lock us down for a bit, yeah?"

There was a series of clicking noises and the windows went opaque. "Workshop is locked down, sir."

"Awesome," said Tony, clapping his hands together and turning to Martin. His expression made Martin desperately want to escape, and take Tony with him. He looked as if he was bracing himself for something really horrific.

"Okay, you know this isn't just window dressing, right?" said Tony, tapping the light of the arc reactor. "It's keeping me alive."

"Yeah," said Martin, clenching his hands. "I know." He didn't fully understand the details, but he definitely had got that it was essential to keeping Tony alive. Oh god, if this was about the arc reactor, no wonder Tony looked like he was going to his own execution, underneath the thin layer of cheerfulness he was clearly only putting on for Martin's benefit.

"So, if it gets damaged or breaks or someone decides to paralyse me and pull it from my chest, I need a new one put in," said Tony.

Martin's eyes went wide with horror. "Pull it from your chest?" he repeated. "Who would–"

"Not important," said Tony. "Lot of shitty people in the world. Which is the other thing about it – if the wrong person gets it, and has the skills, they could use the tech to make a whole new range of really horrific weapons, which I'd kinda like to avoid. Which means I can't just carry a spare around."

"Okay," said Martin. This whole conversation was making him feel a bit sick.

"Hey, hey," said Tony, taking his hands. "No need to go all pale, this is just all last-resort kinda stuff. Like me showing you how to use an epi-pen if I was allergic to shellfish. Only, you know, the epi-pen is top secret and could be turned into a weapon of mass destruction."

"Showing me how to use it?" repeated Martin. "Oh god." His knees felt weak and he clutched at Tony's hands to keep upright.

"O-kay," said Tony, clinging on to Martin just as tightly. “This is going so well already.” He kissed Martin, which made him feel a bit calmer. "Let's start with the easy stuff. JARVIS, show us the safes."

Wall panels slid to one side to reveal two safe doors. "This is where I keep my spares," Tony said. "You'll need to ask JARVIS to open up the wall panels, but he can't get into the safes themselves. The one on the left you can ignore, I'm the only one who can get into that. Right now only me, Pepper and Steve have access to the right-hand one, but I'm going to add you to it, okay?"

Martin managed a nod. "Okay. Right." He took a deep breath as Tony tapped a code into the keypad on the safe and then set his palm against it. It lit up as it scanned his hand print. He then leaned in and let it take a scan of his eye.

That really was a lot of security. Now that Martin had taken a moment to push aside the panic, he realised just what an honour it was for Tony to trust him with this, especially if he hadn't even trusted all of the Avengers with it, only Steve.

"Okay, check out the awesome," said Tony, swinging the door open. Inside were four replacement arc reactors, each carefully set in a little case. None of them were glowing like the one in Tony's chest, but seeing them outside his body made Martin realise just how invasive it was.

"Wow," he said.

Tony gave him a pleased smile. "Correct reaction." He pulled one out and handed it to Martin, who took it gingerly. It was heaver than he'd expected. Up close, he could see just how intricate and complex the design was.

"It's beautiful."

Tony leaned in and kissed him. "Sorry, couldn't resist," he said. "Nothing's sexier than someone geeking out about my tech."

"It's hard not to when it looks like this," said Martin, holding the arc reactor up to the light. "Even if it's not related to aviation."

Tony laughed. "Maybe I should add winglets." He took the arc reactor back and set it gently in the safe. "Okay, so, just need your palm print, a retina scan and a personal pass code of at least 6 digits."

Once Martin's details had been programmed into the safe, Tony made him open it just to check it worked and then nodded with satisfaction. "Okay, great. So now you can get hold of one of those, let me show you what to do once you've got it." 

The coffee machine beeped and Martin gratefully took his chance to avoid the subject for a moment. “I hope I get coffee first,” he said. “Otherwise you've brought me down here under false pretences.”

“Yeah, that would be unchivalrous of me,” said Tony. He headed to the coffee machine and poured them each a mug. He handed one to Martin, who took it gratefully.

Tony took a sip of his own, set it down on table next to the sofa, pulled off his shirt and sat down. "Come next to me."

Martin reluctantly sat next to him. “Usually when you're half-naked on this couch, it's a lot more exciting and a lot less terrifying.”

Tony laughed. “Well, we can do that too,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “You're the one that wanted to finish unpacking first.”

“Yeah, we both know how easy it would be for you to change my mind about that, especially now you have your shirt off,” said Martin. He ran a hand down the lines of Tony's chest, skirting around the arc reactor. He usually made a point of touching it as much as he would if it was flesh, but he couldn't quite bring himself to right now.

Tony gave him a pleased smile, as if he hadn't realised just how susceptible Martin was to his bare chest. “It's kind of a shame that the rest of this is almost certainly going to kill any hint of sexiness,” he said, and tapped the arc reactor. “Time for Reactor Replacement 101.”

Martin made a face. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

"I'm kinda hoping it never is," said Tony. "But better safe than dying painfully from a heart attack, right?"

Well, when he put it like that... Martin set his own coffee to one side. "Okay. Right. What do I do?"

Tony gave him a grateful smile and took a deep breath. "Okay, well, you take it out just like this." He turned the arc reactor, clicking it out of his chest. The light went out as he carefully pulled it free. "Try not to let it touch the sides," he added.

Seeing the gaping hole in Tony's body rather than the reassuring glow of the arc reactor made bile rise up in Martin's throat. He hadn't realised just how much of Tony's chest cavity it took up. "Oh god," he said, weakly. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," said Tony. "I can cope without it for a few minutes, no problem." He was already starting to look a bit pale though, and there was a tension around his eyes that made Martin suspect he was in a bit of pain.

"It goes back in just like it came out, you just have to get the wires lined up first," said Tony, and demonstrated. The light came back on once it was settled back in place and Martin found himself reaching out to touch it, to reassure himself that everything was working as it should.

Tony's hand covered his for a moment, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Okay, your turn."

Martin took a deep breath. "Just so you know, this might be the most terrifying thing I've ever done."

Tony's laugh was a bit choked, as if he wasn't finding this as easy as he was pretending. "C'mon, this is nothing to landing on one engine. There isn't even a cross wind."

"It didn't matter so much that I didn't have steady hands for that," said Martin, shaking his fingers out. "Right, okay, so I just–" He carefully tried to twist the arc reactor out, but it didn't move.

"Got to give it a bit of force," said Tony.

Martin put a bit more strength into it and it clicked free. The light went out and Tony's hand darted out to grip his wrist, squeezing tightly enough to hurt.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" asked Martin.

"No," said Tony, letting out a slow breath. "It's all fine. Just–" He let go of Martin's arm and moved his hand down to the sofa where he clenched at the cushion. "Not a huge fan of other people taking it out. Not had good experiences. Keep going."

There was nothing Martin wanted less than to keep going, but he screwed up his courage and carefully pulled the reactor free, doing his best to keep his hand from shaking. He wasn't entirely successful, but he did manage to pull it free without hurting Tony.

"Oh god," he said weakly, once he was done.

Tony patted his arm. "Good going, Spitfire."

Martin wanted to start crying but he stifled the urge. "Can I put it back now?"

"I'm hoping so," said Tony. "Go for it."

Putting it back in was trickier but less terrifying than taking it out. At least this way round Martin wasn't removing something from Tony that he needed to live.

When it was back in and had clicked around so the light began to glow, the relief that rolled through Martin was so profound that he collapsed forward, resting his head on Tony's shoulder. "Oh god."

Tony cupped a hand around the back of his head and stroked his hair. "Well done," he said. "Now you've just gotta do it three more times."

Martin raised his head enough to give him a despairing look. "I did it once, please don't make me do it again."

Tony kissed him. "Sorry," he said. "It's better if you've practised rather than just having done it once whilst having a panic attack."

Martin dropped his head back down. "I'm not having a panic attack," he said against Tony's skin. "I just really don't like messing about with something so important to you."

"Yeah, I don't really like having it messed about with either," said Tony. "There's really only two people I'm okay with touching it when it's not an emergency."

_Pepper_ , thought Martin. The other one would be Pepper. It took him another moment to realise that meant that Tony trusted him more than he trusted Captain America and the other Avengers, or at least that he was happier about Martin doing something so intimate. That felt like a heavy weight until Martin tried to come up with people he'd be happy to have fiddling with something so personal and vitally important to him and could only really come up with Tony.

Who else's hands would he put his life in? And, conversely, who else would he want to put Tony's in? The answer was easy. If Tony was in danger and needed someone to do this for him, then Martin would want to be the one to do it. He didn't want to stand back and let someone else be responsible for whether or not Tony died.

He sat up so that he could kiss Tony properly, stroking his hands over Tony's shoulders before he fixed his gaze on the arc reactor again. "Right. Let's do this."

"Attaboy," said Tony. “Go for it.”

****

Tony couldn’t have given him a bigger sign of how important Martin was to him. After that, there hadn’t been a single doubt in Martin’s mind about his place in Tony’s life. Marrying him would only put down on paper what they’d both known since Tony showed Martin how to remove the device keeping him alive, and then sat through Martin taking it out four times. How was he ever going to find a way to propose that would make Tony feel like Martin did when he thought back to the trust Tony had shown him that day?

A week after the gala, he still hadn't managed to work out how to propose. He couldn't even work out if he should get a ring or not. He found himself going back through the memories of the best moments he'd had with Tony, trying to work out if there was some common theme or stand-out element that would give him a clue as to how to propose. 

The traditional thing would be a nice restaurant, but that felt too generic. Not to mention public; Martin really didn't want this becoming any more of a media circus than it was already likely to be.

But then, there was that place in Chicago that Tony had taken him to when he'd tried to take him on a first date and Martin had messed it up. He could get them a table there, show him how far they'd come and how much further he wanted them to go. He could see about maybe booking the whole place out to keep it private , fly Tony there in the Quinjet so it was a surprise...

God, no. That would just be so over-the-top and extravagant. Martin would have to use Tony's money and name for it, and the last thing he wanted was to take advantage of him like that.

Where else was there to do it? Somewhere around the tower, obviously, but he'd have to put a lot of effort in to making that feel special when they spent so much time here already, not to mention find a way to get the others to leave them alone for a bit. There must be places outside the Tower that were private and special enough to show Tony just how important he was to Martin.

Martin wandered out of his room in the hope that the rest of the building might give him inspiration. Almost inevitably, his feet took him to the Quinjet hangar.

He often found himself in there when there wasn't much else going on. It was quiet and peaceful, and he liked to go over the lines of the plane and remind himself just how beautiful it was. He traced his fingers over the edge of a wing then ducked underneath to find the point on the fuselage where _Martin Quinjet MK 1_ was neatly printed. There. His name on the most incredible plane ever built. How was he meant to ever give Tony something that meant as much to him as that did to Martin?

Maybe he should propose in here. Or take Tony up for a flight and do it mid-air.

The insecure part of him wanted to make sure he had an immediate escape route in case Tony said no. Besides, even if he said yes, would Martin really be emotionally together enough to fly back?

Actually, he probably wouldn't be up to flying beforehand either. He could already foresee the nerves that would overtake him and make him incapable of anything. He'd probably need to write himself a script or risk stuttering incoherence.

It was a good thing Tony seemed to like his stuttering incoherence.

That might be a vote in favour of getting a ring. That was the kind of prop that meant you didn't have to bother with words to get your message across. But then Martin would have to actually go out and find a ring that Tony would like. That felt like a lot of pressure.

He circled the Quinjet. Would Tony even be able to wear a ring? Sometimes he needed to get the suit on really quickly; a ring would only get in the way. How much space was there inside his gauntlets?

On the other hand, Martin did like the idea of putting a visible claim on Tony. As much as he liked being so dull that most of the paparazzi had given up on trying to get an interesting story out of him, he didn't want their relationship to be forgotten by the kind of awful, vapid women that tended to pounce on Tony at parties.

Maybe he could ask JARVIS what the best kind of ring to fit under the suit would be.

The door opened. "Spitfire?"

Martin ducked around the other side of the Quinjet to see Tony in the doorway, still wearing the suit he'd put on for his meeting this afternoon but stripped down to shirtsleeves. The arc reactor glowed gently through the material at his chest.

"Evening," said Martin, unable to hold in a smile at the sight of him. God, how did he get to be so lucky?

"Figures I'd find you in here," said Tony, letting the door shut behind him as he came in. "I didn't interrupt some kind of private moment, did I?"

"You'd never be interrupting," said Martin, holding out his hands to take Tony's.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "That's not a no. Spitfire, Martin, love of my life, be honest. Were you getting freaky with the plane?"

_Love of my life_. Said flippantly, but Martin still felt a rush of emotion at it. Tony had said enough about his previous relationships, all short and pretty superficial, for him to know that it was true purely by default, but did he mean it the other way as well? Did he want Martin to be the only love for the rest of his life?

God, Martin hoped so.

"No,” he said, then tried out a sly smile as he added. “Well, not yet.”

Tony glanced up at the plane and back at Martin with a wicked grin. "We've fucked inside, but we haven't done it actually _on_ the plane, you realise. We could climb up on the wing and I could spread you out on it so you're sandwiched between me and the plane like a threesome, or, ooh, you could bend me over the fuselage, I know how you feel about the curve of it, imagine my body following that curve."

Martin did. It was surprisingly tempting. He glanced at the door.

Tony beamed, clearly aware of exactly how close Martin was to going for it. He moved in closer, taking Martin in his arms as he said, "No need to worry about being interrupted. No one else comes in here unless–"

The Avengers alarm went off. Tony slumped. "Damnit. Sometimes I swear the super-villains are cock-blocking me."

Martin kissed Tony and stepped away, knowing what was coming next. "When you get back," he said, mentally adding the _unless it's very late, or you're injured, or the crisis isn't resolved._

Tony turned away to the case that held the Iron Man suit and held his arms out. "Okay, go, JARVIS."

The door slide open and the suit flew out, assembling around him. "I'm gonna hold you to that," he said to Martin just before the faceplate clicked into place. "Seriously."

The door opened and Steve charged in, heading straight for the case with his gear in it. Thor sauntered in a moment later, swinging his hammer.

"What great contest of strength awaits us, Captain?"

"Initial reports are of a bank robbery," said Steve, peeling his t-shirt off as Bruce came in. Martin had to physically turn to face the other way to keep himself from staring at Steve’s abs and found himself looking at Tony instead, who flicked up his faceplate just so he could give Martin a wink that meant he'd caught him staring and thought it was hilarious. “It looks like the perpetrators are The Wrecking Crew.”

Thor, Bruce and Tony all groaned.

"Those clowns?" said Tony. "C'mon, really?"

"Sorry," said Steve with a shrug. "They do have super-powers and there's not really anyone else who can deal with them. We're going to have to wait for a SHIELD jet to get us though, because we don't have a pilot. Natasha's still on her mission and Clint's at his apartment. We'll pick him up on the way."

"You're kidding, right?" said Tony. "We've got the best damn pilot there is!” He nodded at Martin, who felt his eyes widen. “No way we need SHIELD and their crappy jet." 

"Oh, I could never–"

"We can't involve a civilian," said Steve firmly. He pulled his helmet on, now fully dressed and looking every inch Captain America.

Tony snorted. "Against the Wrecking Crew? C'mon, it'll be fine. He takes us over to Clint's, we pick him up, fly out to wherever those bozos are–"

"Scranton," put in Steve.

"Right, and then he just stays in the Quinjet, which has shit-tons of armour, we kick ass, and he flies us home. Easy," finished Tony. "And it means we can leave right now, rather than hanging about like we need Daddy to give us a ride. Which could delay us long enough to miss the bad guys entirely, I should point out. SHIELD jets are snails compared to my Quinjet."

"It does seem strange to wait for SHIELD when we possess our own chariot," said Thor.

Steve sighed, glanced up at the ceiling as if asking for strength, and then looked at Martin. "Would you be okay with that?"

Martin looked between the four superheroes and the Quinjet, then took a deep breath. "Yeah. Okay."

"Hell yeah!" crowed Tony. "That's my boy."

"It will be an honour to be flown by you," said Thor.

Panic was clutching with freezing hands at Martin's stomach, but he refused to let it control him. The Avengers needed his assistance; he couldn't let them down. And he definitely couldn't ruin the sheer delight Tony was broadcasting.

"Good man," said Steve, slapping Martin's back. He tried not to wince at the strength of it. "Let's go."

Martin looked at the Quinjet again and managed a nod. He could do this. He'd flown it before, after all, several times. He and Tony occasionally went for a quick flight together in the evenings. Even if Martin refused to have sex while they were in the air, no matter how good Tony promised the autopilot was, there was no denying the effect that taking her up had on his libido. They'd had some spectacularly good nights after a brief flight around the city.

That was a problem, though. Scranton might not be as far away as Fitton, but it was further than a quick jaunt around Manhattan. Not to mention having to land somewhere other than the hangar, which would probably involve a vertical landing, or however they were going to pick Clint up from his apartment building.

He sat in the pilot's chair and took a deep breath. One thing at a time. Pre-takeoff checks.

As he ran from checking the tightness of the throttle friction to making sure the altimeters were set for departure, he felt himself calm down at the familiarity of it. He could do this.

Tony had settled in the co-pilot's chair and gently patted his thigh. "You've got this, Spitfire. JARVIS, put up the location of Clint's apartment."

A map glimmered into life on the dash. Martin glanced at it, took a deep breath, and took off.

Flying over to Bed-Stuy was easy enough. Hovering over the roof of the apartment while Steve and Bruce let down a ladder was harder, but he managed to hold the Quinjet steady enough for Clint to shin up it and leap into the plane.

"Hey, hey, guys. We ready for some excitement?"

"Not really," said Bruce. "I was halfway through an experiment."

Clint ruffled his hair and then threw himself into a chair. "I see we've got a new pilot. Hope that doesn't make me redundant."

"You can always be the coffee boy," said Tony.

Martin ignored the banter. JARVIS had brought up a flight plan to Scranton for him, along with a little note to say that air traffic control had been alerted to their presence. Right. That was fine. He just had to follow the plan and let ATC keep everyone else out of his way.

"There's a report from local police that the Wrecking Crew have taken hostages," said Steve.

"Push the pedal to the metal," said Tony. “Hey, we should pump ourselves up with some tunes. How about–”

“We are not listening to AC/DC,” said Bruce. “How many times, Tony? We don't need theme music before a fight.”

Tony sighed and flopped back in his seat. “You guys are such nerds.”

As soon as they were out of a densely populated area, Martin did push the pedal to the metal, and then had to grit his teeth together to stop himself from squeaking with surprise. Oh wow, the Quinjet could go fast. He panicked that his reflexes weren't up to it, but the controls were perfectly calibrated to be responsive without jerking the plane at every tiny move.

Once he realised he could trust himself with her, it became fun. For the first time he understood Tom Cruise's character in Top Gun, and then he remembered all his safety concerns with that film. He really didn't want to be the guy who crashed a plane full of Avengers.

Scranton arrived far too quickly.

"Just put us down on the street there," said Tony, gesturing down. "The police have cleared the area."

Martin looked at the tiny space available and felt his palms go sticky.

"Piece of cake," said Tony. "You can do this. It's bigger than the hangar."

Martin swallowed. "Right. Okay."

Vertical landing was not something Martin had much practice at, even if he had known the principles since he was eight. Switching between horizontal flight and vertical was less complicated on the Quinjet than it was in some planes, but it wasn't a doddle, particularly not when you were used to more traditional forms of aviation. Martin concentrated his full attention on the controls, shutting out the murmur of conversation behind him as the Avengers planned for the fight.

He touched down with a bit of a clunk but no actual damage. Thor had the door open and the Avengers poured out before Martin had time to properly check the plane post-landing, but he stifled his annoyance. This was an emergency, after all.

Tony paused long enough to kiss him. "You were brilliant," he said. "Make sure you shut the door and keep it shut till we're done, yeah? I don't want one of these bozos thinking you'd make a good hostage."

He slammed his faceplate down and headed after the others, taking off into the air as soon as he was outside.

Martin really didn't want to be a hostage either, so he shut the door, double-checked everything was okay with the Quinjet, and then settled back to watch the fight through the windscreen of the Quinjet. After a moment, JARVIS turned on the feed from the Avengers' comms so Martin could listen in. He'd listened to almost all the Avengers fights like that since he'd moved to New York, either broadcast by JARVIS in the Tower or on a headphone plugged in to his phone. It was occasionally terrifying to hear Tony in such danger, but it was far easier than not having a clue what was going on.

The Avengers had a brief huddle with a couple of officers before the police backed away behind their barrier. The Avengers headed into the bank without Bruce, who hung back. If the Hulk wasn't absolutely necessary, he preferred to keep out of these things. There wasn't a lot to see, although Martin could keep track of what was going on from the banter over the comms.

"Wrecker!" bellowed Thor. "Stand down or be beaten down!"

"Thor!" a voice shouted back. "I will crush you!"

There was a crash and several thuds.

"Hawkeye, get the hostages!" commanded Captain America.

There was the sound of a small explosion and a window shattered. Hawkeye came out of a side door, shepherding a small group of frightened people who took off in the direction of the police barricade.

"Seriously, I don't know why you guys bother," said Tony over the comms. "Everyone here knows we can take you down without breaking a sweat."

There was a rumbling shout, a muttered swear word from Tony, and the front of the bank erupted in a shower of dust and masonry. Iron Man came flying through, landing in a heap on the other side of the road as Bulldozer ran out after him.

Martin clutched at the arms of his chair.

"Oh, you fucker," said Tony, getting to his feet. He sounded fine, so Martin made himself relax. When Tony shot a small missile at Bulldozer that sent him tumbling backwards, he stopped even needing to concentrate on being relaxed.

The rest of the fight spread out from the bank through the shattered wall, giving Martin an excellent view as the Wrecking Crew were thoroughly trounced. Thunderball escaped at the last minute, but the other three were all in restraints by the time SHIELD landed their jet, and without the Hulk having to come out.

"You're late!" Tony called out as an agent came out of the jet. "Missed all the fun, Hill."

Hill glared at him. "We were under the impression that you guys needed a lift, so we took a detour to yours."

"Uh, did anyone tell SHIELD that we'd found a pilot?" asked Clint.

There were some awkward glances between the Avengers.

"Oops," said Tony. "Hey, pilot! Come out and say hi to the nice super secret spy agents." He gestured over at the Quinjet.

Martin glanced again at the restrained super-villains before leaving the Quinjet, but they didn't look like they were going to be any danger. Besides, Tony would protect him.

Tony already had his faceplate flipped open but he took off his helmet as well when Martin came out so that he could kiss him properly. Martin kissed him back with matching enthusiasm, only part of his brain pointing out that they were being watched by a crowd of Avengers, SHIELD agents, policemen, rescued hostages and three quarters of the Wrecking Crew.

Hill sighed. "You shouldn't be getting civilians involved, Stark."

"I didn't mind," said Martin, once Tony had pulled back enough to let him speak.

"He was just playing chauffeur," said Tony. "Which he did exceptionally well, even without the hat. Oh, Spitfire, we should definitely get you a hat."

“I have a hat,” Martin pointed out. “A pilot's hat.”

“True, okay, but it's been _months_ since we had se–”

Martin kissed him again before he could finish the sentence. Public displays of affection he could handle, but he'd prefer to keep at least some details of their sex life private.

"I evaluated the situation and decided the risk was negligible," said Steve. "He was never in any danger."

"Cmon, Hill, even you know these guys are a bit of a joke," said Clint, gesturing at the Wrecking Crew, who were being escorted into the SHIELD jet. Piledriver glared at him. "The only thing they're really good at is escaping jail."

"Speaking of, do you think you could hold onto them for a whole month this time?" asked Tony. "I'm getting kinda sick of rehashing the same fight all the time."

Hill glared at him. "Your feedback is noted," she snapped, then turned on her heel and headed back into the jet.

Steve sighed. "Do you really have to wind her up all the time, Tony?"

"Ah, pretty much, yeah," said Tony. They headed off towards the Quinjet together, bickering about the correct way to communicate with agents of shady supra-government agencies.

"Do you want to fly us back?" Martin asked Clint as they followed them.

Clint snorted. "You're kidding, right? Why would I fly your baby when you're here to do it?"

"She's not _my_ baby, she's Tony's."

Clint shook his head. "Nah. Tony built her, sure, but he built her for you. Every part of her is specifically tailored for you – even the chair is at your height. My legs are too long for it. Flying her is like– well, okay, you know when you wear someone else's boots? Ones they've had a while, that have been properly broken in to their feet? Even if they're the same size as your feet, they still feel off. Not a lot, I mean, you can still take down twenty HYDRA agents and blow up a weapons lab, but it's not like doing it in your own boots, you know? Flying the Quinjet is like that."

Martin didn't have any experience with blowing up HYDRA's weapons labs in either his own boots or someone else's, but he thought he knew what Clint meant. He just hadn't realised that the Quinjet was a pair of his boots. Uh, so to speak.

As he settled into the pilot's chair he took a moment to notice that it was the perfect height and that the instruments were all at his eye-level. The control column fitted into the curl of his hands in a way that the controls of the Piper he flew at Eagle Air didn't. How had he not realised it had been built with his measurements in mind?

He thought about the room Tony had put together for him, where Martin felt more at home than he had anywhere since he was a small child. As he ran through the pre-flight checks, he counted all the spaces that Tony had created for Martin in his life, carefully designing them so that they were the perfect size for him.

Martin may have left his job and England to move in with him, but Tony had made sure that he never felt anything less than welcome. He'd made sure Martin had his own room, he'd given him access to his spare arc reactors, he'd built him the most incredible plane and then talked him in to flying it for the Avengers. There was no part of his life that he hadn't opened up for Martin and invited him into.

Martin had to take a deep breath and swallow down the swell of love and affection that threatened to overtake him. God, how did he ever deserve this man? What kind of proposal would express everything Martin felt? He couldn't even find words to express it to himself, let alone ones that he'd be able to say out loud, to Tony's face.


	2. Chapter 2

"Saw you on the news yesterday," said Hal as Martin got his morning coffee the next day. "Are you support staff for the Avengers now?"

Martin hadn't realised he'd been caught on camera and gave an awkward shrug. "They needed a pilot."

Hal shook his head in apparent disbelief. "Don't suppose they need any ground crew, do they?"

"If they did, they wouldn't hire you," said Jeff.

Hal made an indignant noise that was ignored.

"There must be some way we can make having a part-time Avenger on the roster into a marketing strategy," said Whitney, slowly.

Martin winced at the idea. "No," he said. "I'm not anything like that, I just flew the Quinjet for them. Once."

"You flown it more than that, haven't you?" said Caleb.

Martin was horribly aware that he was now the focus of everyone in the break room, which was at least half the company. "Well, yeah," he said. "Tony and I go on short flights together in the evenings sometimes."

"See, now that's romance," said Monika. "Not being ordered a takeaway and forced to watch the football."

The thud-thud-thud of a helicopter passing overhead grew louder as it passed low over the building.

"God, I wish we could have a night in with a takeaway," said Caleb, raising his voice to be heard above it. "All we seem to eat is kale these days."

The helicopter didn't seem to be moving on. Martin frowned and walked to look out the window.

It wasn't one helicopter, it was three. They were Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawks painted an ominous black, and they were hovering over the building as armed men dropped down ropes to the ground. They were all in black, with white lightning bolts blazoned on their chests.

"Oh god," said Martin, his heart sinking down to his stomach.

Whitney leaned over and frowned out at the scene as well. "What the hell?"

A moment later, men burst into the room, guns pointed right at them. 

"Everyone put your hands on your heads!"

Martin let out a weak cry of fear and clawed at the Starkwatch on his wrist. When Tony had given it to him, he'd pointed out two buttons on the side.

_“Press those together any time you think there might be even a hint of danger, yeah? Seriously, even if you think it's nothing, you can always call afterwards and let me or JARVIS know it was a false alarm, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.”_

He pressed both buttons as firmly as he could, several times, until one of the men grabbed his arm and jerked him in the direction of the hangar.

There was something odd-looking about the men's guns but it took Martin a moment to realise they were tasers rather than actual firearms. Of course, he wouldn't have had a clue what they were before last year. Living in Avengers Tower was a pretty good way to get a crash course in basic weaponry, as well as things people shouldn't be allowed to bring to a communal dinner.

"Hands on your head!" the men shouted. "Everyone go through that door! No speaking, no screaming!"

"Oh god," whimpered Monika, and was told to shut up.

They were herded out to the hangar, where they were made to kneel down. Other men brought everyone else out of the building as the helicopters landed.

"What the hell is going on?" asked Nadine. "This is completely unacceptable!"

"Shut up," growled one of the men.

"You might be more threatening if you had some real guns, rather than just tasers," said Hal.

One of the men glared at him. "We are the Electro-Ninjas," he growled. "Once you've been electro-ninjaed, you will know true pain, and bow before us."

Hal stared at him. "Seriously? That's the slogan you've gone with? That's–"

The man shot him and Hal went down in a flail of twitching limbs. Pearl let out a short scream.

"No one will mock the Electro-Ninjas," growled the man.

A man in a suit climbed out of the nearest helicopter and strolled towards them. Martin squinted at him as he came into the hangar and then recognised him. "Oh god."

Herr Bernard glared at him. "You, be quiet. You nasty little man."

"I didn't do anything," protested Martin.

Herr Bernard gestured at the man behind Martin, who smacked the back of his head. It hurt, and Martin whimpered.

"On your feet," demanded Herr Bernard.

Martin reluctantly stood up, fear beginning to make his limbs feel weak. "Please don't hurt me. Or anyone. Well, anyone else."

Hal was still lying on the floor, although he'd stopped twitching and seemed to be conscious.

"I will do as I please," said Herr Bernard. "Just as you did when you ruined my career!"

Martin blinked at him. "What? I didn't ruin–"

"Silence!" said Herr Bernard again. Martin shut up rather than risk being hit again. "You spoke your words of poison into Tony's ear, and he fired me. I was the backbone of Stark Industries, I was there for years! And you destroyed it all!"

Martin had no idea what he was going on about, but he was far too scared to try and defend himself.

"And so, now I will destroy you," said Herr Bernard. He pulled a long knife out of his pocket and leaned in close to Martin, running the flat of it along his throat. Martin was so scared that for a moment he thought he was going to faint.

"Get your hands off him," said an extremely welcome voice.

Martin looked over Herr Bernard's shoulder to see Iron Man striding into the hangar, both palms up and repulsors aimed at Herr Bernard.

"Scheisse," muttered Herr Bernard, and he pulled Martin in between him and Tony. "You got here quicker than I thought, Tony."

"I was strongly motivated," said Tony. "I swear, if you hurt one hair on Martin's head, you're going to seriously regret it."

"You don't understand," said Herr Bernard. "But you will. He's twisted your mind, made you make poor business decisions. Why else would you have fired me?"

"Oh, for–" said Tony. "Uh, because you were embezzling, maybe? Because you're a dinosaur who still expected Pepper to make tea at meetings just because she's a woman? Because you're a throwback to the bad old days when Obie was breaking international laws left, right and centre just for a quick profit?"

"It's a business," hissed Herr Bernard. The knife against Martin's throat shook and Martin did his best to stand as still as possible to avoid getting nicked. "The whole point is to make a profit!"

"Not at that kind of cost," said Tony. "Seriously, step away from Martin or I will–"

"You'll what?" asked Herr Bernard. "I think, with my knife here, you will do as I say. Take off the armour."

"Hell no," said Tony.

There was a sting on Martin's collarbone as Herr Bernard pressed the knife in, and he let out a cry.

"Stop!" demanded Tony.

"Take off the suit," repeated Herr Bernard. "Or perhaps you'd prefer it if I asked my men to shoot some of these hostages. Shall we play Russian roulette to see if any of them have a pace-maker?"

"Oh man, you've armed them all with your stupid taser prototype," said Tony, glancing around. "C'mon, Hans, I told you. You need to let that thing go."

Herr Bernard puffed up with indignation. "It is a massive breakthrough in taser technology! Stark Industries should be at the forefront of the field, not–"

"Dude, Hans, how are you the only guy on the planet who missed the huge hoo-ha when Stark Industries _stopped making weapons_?" said Tony.

"It's not a weapon," huffed Herr Bernard. "It's non-lethal. It's a crowd control device!"

"Sounds a lot like a weapon to me," said Tony. He glanced around at the others. "Who's with me?"

Hal raised a weak, shaking hand from his spot on the floor. "Me," he wheezed.

"It doesn't matter," said Herr Bernard. "I've found a better investor now. Someone who understands my vision."

"Your vision of electrocuting people?" said Tony. "Great. Just so you know, this whole thing is only making me more and more glad that I fired your ass."

“Then I will just have to work harder to make you regret it,” said Herr Bernard. The knife pressed in close against Martin's throat. “Get out of the suit, or I shall– I'll– I'll cut off his ear!”

Tony let out a growl of frustration, then there was a whir and he stepped out of the suit. "I am going to take you apart," he threatened.

Herr Bernard laughed. "You're not going to do anything right now."

Tony was only wearing a pair of shabby jeans and an old Motorhead t-shirt thin enough for the arc reactor to be clearly visible through. He looked very vulnerable outside of the armour, and Martin felt his heart clench. He really didn't want anything painful to happen to himself, but it would be even worse if something happened to Tony.

Herr Bernard let the knife drop from Martin's neck and pushed him behind him. One of his men grabbed Martin's wrist and gave him an unnecessarily menacing look, given there was no way in hell Martin would find the courage to do anything other than capitulate to all their demands.

"All those people trying to get the better of you, and all they needed to do was threaten your bitch," said Herr Bernard, with delight.

"Don't call him that," said Tony.

Herr Bernard snorted. "I think I'll call him whatever I like. You are not in a position to complain."

"Maybe, but I can promise you that you're going to seriously regret this later," said Tony. "What are you even trying to achieve, other than pissing me off and getting a beatdown from the Avengers?"

"A retirement plan, mostly," said Herr Bernard. "The revenge is just a bonus." He nodded at one of his men, who stepped towards Tony, aiming a taser at him.

"Don't!" said Martin.

"Shut up," said Herr Bernard. "No one is interested in your opinion, parasite."

"It's cool, Martin," said Tony, eyes fixed on the taser. "It'll take more than a failed businessman to take me out."

If that was meant to be reassuring, it was ruined by the look on his face, not to mention the fact that he'd called Martin by his name and not Spitfire. He tended to save that for serious moments.

"Oh, I don't intend to take _you_ out," said Herr Bernard. "It's your exciting toy I want to take out. Do you have any idea what the bounty for a working arc reactor is on the black market? Or just how impressive the taser you could power with it would be?"

"You touch it, it'll be the last thing you touch," growled Tony. Martin felt his hands ball into fists. God, if only he was one of the other Avengers, someone who'd be able to actually fight back in some way. Or even just someone who wasn't a giant coward, terrified out of his mind.

Herr Bernard just laughed, then gestured at the nearest man. "Go ahead."

The man fired. Two probes attached to wires shot out and hit Tony right in the centre of the chest and he jolted and went rigid, twitching. A shower of sparks burst out of the arc reactor.

"No!" shouted Martin as Tony collapsed to his knees, eyes rolling back in his head.

"You idiot!" snapped Herr Bernard at the man. "If you damage the reactor, you'll cost us a fortune!"

"Think it's too late for that," gritted Tony out between clenched teeth, and then he tipped over backwards. The arc reactor light was flickering in and out in a worrying manner.

If Martin had thought he was scared before, it was nothing to the wave of terror that overtook him then. He pulled his arm free of the guard holding it and rushed towards Tony, heart thumping in his ribcage.

Herr Bernard tried to catch his shoulder as he went past but Martin just punched him as hard as he could, using everything Clint had taught him about making it count. Herr Bernard went reeling back but Martin wasn't paying attention.

He fell to his knees at Tony's side. The arc reactor was making a worrying buzzing noise and still sending out the occasional spark as it flickered in and out.

"Oh god, please be okay, you have to be okay," he heard himself babble. Tony's eyelids fluttered open but he couldn't seem to focus on Martin's face.

The men were all starting towards him and he knew he only had a few seconds before he was hauled away from Tony. He clutched at Tony's hand.

"Please, you have to be okay," he said. "You can't die on me, not yet, I haven't even worked out how to propose to you yet."

The arc reactor gave a sharp crack and flooded with light, then went abruptly dark. Tony twitched again and slumped, unconscious.

At that moment, there was a bellow from outside the hangar and Thor's hammer came flying in, hitting the guard nearest Martin and knocking him back against the far wall. It was followed a moment later by Captain America's shield and Martin tore his eyes away from Tony long enough to see that the Quinjet had landed outside and the Avengers had all arrived.

He couldn't find any relief at the sight of them, not when Tony was passed out in front of him, white as a sheet and beaded with sweat, the arc reactor dark and dead in his chest. Martin pulled the taser wires out of Tony’s chest and gripped at his hand, dread sinking in at the limpness of his fingers.

"Tony, come on, wake up," he begged.

He was vaguely aware of someone crouching down on the other side of Tony.

"Oh shit," said Clint.

"The taser hit the reactor," said Martin. He put a hand over Tony's heart as if he could keep it beating just by touching it.

"He needs one of his replacements," said Steve from behind Martin.

Martin glanced around to see that all the thugs were being disarmed by Natasha, while Herr Bernard was being handcuffed by Thor. He looked up to meet Steve's eye. "We need to get him to the tower."

Steve nodded. "Clint, get the Quinjet ready to fly. Martin, I'll help you carry him over."

Clint leapt to his feet and disappeared towards the Quinjet. Steve bent down and lifted Tony up into his arms as if he weighed nothing. Martin trotted beside him, feeling useless.

Steve put Tony down on the stretcher that they kept in the back of the Quinjet for just this kind of emergency. Clint was already at the controls, engine warming up.

"I need to stay and wait for the police," said Steve. "Tony gave you access to the safe, didn't he?"

Martin nodded. "Yeah," he said, taking hold of Tony's limp hand again. "And he showed me how to change it."

Steve looked surprised. "Then you're better qualified than I am," he said. "He just told me that if it was necessary, JARVIS would talk me through it." He stepped back, towards the door. "You'll look after him, yeah?"

Martin nodded. "Of course."

Steve gave him a tight nod and left the plane, shutting the door behind him.

"Right," said Clint. "Let's see just how quick your commute could be."

They took off without checking with the control tower. They would have shut the airport down earlier anyway, before they landed.

Tony had gone even paler and Martin could feel the pulse throbbing under his skin. "Hold on," he said to him. "We're going to get you a new reactor, just hold on. Please."

He felt sick with fear. What if this was it? What if Tony died before Martin had even got to have a full year of living with him, let alone the chance to try and convince him to marry him?

Tony's hand twitched in his grip and Martin held on tighter. "Tony? You're going to be okay, Tony. I promise."

Tony drew in a sharp breath and his eyes flickered open, then shut again. "Oh, fucking hell," he muttered distantly.

The relief Martin felt at the sound of his voice was almost overwhelming. He leant in and kissed his forehead. "You're going to be okay," he said again, as if all it would take to make it happen would be his certainty.

"Yeah, sure," muttered Tony. "It definitely feels like that."

"We're landing!" called Clint and a moment later Martin felt the Quinjet touch down.

"We're at the Tower," he told Tony. "It's going to be okay, I'm going to get you a new reactor."

"Awesome," said Tony. He winced and for a moment all his muscles tensed up. "Quicker would probably be better," he gasped.

Clint came back from the cockpit. "Quit making a fuss about nothing, Tony," he said, and gave Martin a meaningful look.

Martin nodded and pressed Tony's hand one last time before letting go of it, opening the Quinjet door and dashing out of it.

"JARVIS," he called. "I need to get down to the workshop as quickly as possible."

"I have already got the lift ready for you," said JARVIS. "These circumstances comply with the parameters Sir set for breaking the safety protocols, so I will be able to operate it at a much faster rate than usual."

Martin ran down the corridor and through the open doors of the waiting lift, which immediately shut behind him and plummeted so fast that for a moment he thought it was in free fall. He let out a small cry and gripped at the railing.

"My apologies," said JARVIS. "Please hold on."

"No, it's fine," said Martin. "The quicker the better."

The lift stopped with a bit of a jerk and the doors opened while he was halfway through saying that. He decided not to think about just how fast the lift must have been falling and instead stumbled out and into the workshop, where the panel in front of the safe was already open.

Martin paused in front of it, took a deep breath and punched in his code, then pressed his palm to the panel, before he leaned in to let his retina be scanned.

There was a breath-taking wait while he panicked that he'd got the number wrong or his palm print had changed somehow, and then the door clicked open.

He grabbed an arc reactor and slammed the safe door shut, then bolted back to the lift. JARVIS slide the doors shut behind him and they pelted back up the building, the sudden increase in gravity making Martin stumble.

"How is he?" he asked.

"Sir is still conscious but in considerable pain. His heart rate is at 185 bpm."

Martin had no idea if that was good or bad, but he had a feeling it was probably bad.

The lift doors opened and he ran back down the corridor to the Quinjet hangar, bursting in and hurrying back into the plane.

Tony looked half-dead already. He was dragging in ragged breaths with one hand pressed hard to his chest, over his heart.

Clint was at his side, one hand on his shoulder, and he gave Martin a look of sheer relief. "Cavalry's here," he said and stepped back to let Martin take his place.

Tony gave Martin a weak grin. "Good thing we practised, huh?"

Martin tried to return it, but couldn't seem to make his face form a smile. He looked down at Tony's chest, where the arc reactor should be sending out a glow but was dark. "Proper drills are the key to efficient and well-managed responses to emergencies," he quoted from one of his handbooks. The familiar words were like a mantra, and he managed to find something close to a sense of calm.

He gently moved Tony's hand off his chest and took hold of the bottom of Tony's t-shirt, wondering how he was going to get it off.

Clint held out a knife to him. Martin blinked at it, then took it. Right. Yes. Paramedics cut clothes off people.

Tony groaned when he saw it. "Oh, come on. This shirt is vintage."

"And now it's rags," said Clint, cheerfully. "Go on, Martin."

Martin cut it off as carefully as he could, peeling the edges back away from the arc reactor. The taser had left two puncture marks on Tony's chest, one of them pressed tight next to the dark shell of the reactor. Christ, no wonder it had failed so spectacularly. The pins must have been touching it.

He took a deep breath and reached out to unclick the reactor. Tony let out a choke and gritted his teeth, eyes squeezed shut, as Martin carefully pulled it free. The gaping hole in Tony's chest only made him feel sicker.

The new reactor slid in easily enough on his first try, but it didn't connect properly and he had to pull it out and line it up again, all while Tony took slow, careful breaths that were clearly meant to hide just how much pain he was in.

When Martin finally clicked it in and the light came on, he felt like he'd aged twenty years. Tony took a deep breath and found a grin.

"Good going, Spitfire."

Martin gripped his hand tightly. "Do we need to get you a doctor?"

"Nah, I'm fine now," said Tony, trying to sit up and then abruptly lying back down again.

Clint snorted. "Yeah, that's not even a little bit true." He glanced at Martin. "Think we can get him to your bedroom without him passing out?"

Martin looked back at Tony, then at the trolley he was on. "We could wheel him."

"Oh no," said Tony. "Hell no." He tried to sit up again, grabbing hold of Martin to pull himself up, and then sagging back to lean against the wall. "I can do it. Just, slowly."

Clint and Martin exchanged glances, then Clint sighed. "Yeah, okay, fine. Take a moment to recover from the strain of sitting up, I'm gonna check in with Steve."

He went back up the front to use the radio. Martin sat down on the stretcher next to Tony. He took his hand and clung on as if that would keep him from ever doing anything like that to him again.

"You're okay, right?" asked Tony.

Martin gave him a bewildered glance. "Tony, you're the one who just had a heart attack."

Tony tried to wave that away, but lost energy halfway through the hand movement. "Ah, that wasn't a proper heart attack. I'm totally fine. You had a knife to your throat."

"He didn't even break the skin," said Martin. "Don't worry about me."

Tony shrugged, pulling himself more upright so that he could sling an arm around Martin's shoulders and lean into him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Course I'm gonna worry about you." He paused for a moment before he added, in a quiet voice, "And, for the record, it doesn't matter how you propose. I'll say yes."

Martin felt himself jolt as he flushed. He hadn't thought Tony had heard that. In fact, if he'd had a moment to think about it, he would have been really hoping he hadn't.

Clint came back before he could find a response. "Okay, your buddy has been arrested, along with all his stooges. The others are stuck dealing with the police so we totally lucked out, escaping back here early."

"Yeah, thank god I was tasered," said Tony. "Real stoke of luck."

Martin twitched and glared. "No, it really wasn't," he snapped.

Clint held up his hands. "Okay, okay, sorry. C'mon, let's get him in a bed."

Tony's insistence that he was fine and could totally walk made getting him into the bedroom harder than it really had to be. By the time Clint and Martin had set him down on the bed, he was clearly exhausted although he wouldn't admit to it.

Martin ducked down to take off his shoes for him, ignoring his protests that he was fine and could do it himself.

"If you guys are good here, I should probably head back to pick up the others," said Clint.

"I'm all fine," said Tony. "Seriously, no need to fuss."

Martin glanced over his shoulder at Clint to exchange a knowing look with him. "I'm just going to get him into bed."

"Yeah, you are," said Tony. "Never takes much for you to get me into bed, Spitfire."

He'd slumped backwards to collapse on the bed as Martin fought to get his jeans off.

Clint snorted. "Oh yeah, I can see you two are going to be getting up to all kinds of kinky shit." He left Martin to it.

Martin got Tony's jeans off then bundled him under the covers. He got painkillers and a glass of water from the bathroom, which Tony took with only a minimum of grumbling, proving he needed them.

"I don't need to be molly-coddled like this."

"Of course not," said Martin, taking the water from him and running a hand through his hair. "Maybe I need to do some coddling, through."

Tony gave him a long look. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Fair enough. Coddle away."

He lasted through less than five minutes of Martin stroking his hair before he fell asleep. Martin stopped moving his hand but stayed right where he was, watching him sleep as the colour slowly returned to his face.

****

About half an hour went by before there was a gentle tap on the door. Martin pulled himself away from Tony and answered it to find Steve on the other side.

"Is Tony okay?"

Martin nodded. "He's asleep," he said.

Steve nodded. "Probably best. We can get Bruce to give him a proper look over later."

"Yeah, that would be good. He's refusing to see a doctor," said Martin.

"Could have guessed that," said Steve. "Your manager said to tell you that they're cancelling all flights and closing the company for the next two days, so you don't have to be back there until Thursday."

"Was everyone okay?" asked Martin, possibly rather belatedly. He hadn't stopped to think that his colleagues might have been hurt.

"Fine," said Steve. "Well, some of them were a bit shaken and the guy who was tasered got taken to hospital, but only as a precautionary measure. And don't worry, I checked for you, the planes weren't touched either."

Martin opened his mouth to protest that he hadn't been worried about that, then had a mental image of what it would have been like if the Piper he flew every day had been harmed at all, and shut it. Yeah, once he'd had a chance to think about it, he'd probably have been worried about that.

"Thank you."

"No problem," said Steve, and left him to it. Martin shut the door behind himself and looked at Tony's sleeping form. He decided to leave him to it and slipped out into his room, where he sat down on the sofa and put his head in his hands.

God, that had been awful. Every part of it.

Except the part where Tony had as good as said he'd marry him. Martin hadn't minded that bit. He thought again about how to propose and realised that it felt as if all the pressure had been taken off him. Even if he got the precise moment and circumstances wrong, it wasn't going to change the fact that he and Tony were going to get married.

Oh, wow, he was going to get married. To Tony Stark.

His stomach felt like it was in some sort of spin. He took a deep breath, then another one when the first didn't help much. Of course, there was pressure of a different kind now. Tony knew he was intending to propose, which meant he'd need to do it soon.

He really needed to make some decisions. What was the first thing that needed to be sorted? Probably whether or not he needed to go out and buy a ring.

"JARVIS?" he asked.

"Captain Crieff," responded JARVIS.

"Do you think Tony could wear a ring under the Iron Man suit? Or would it get in the way, or get damaged?"

"My analysis of the size of the armour compared to the circumference of Sir's fingers shows that he would be able to wear a ring of 1.5 millimetres or less without it causing any problems," said JARVIS. "However, I would suggest that a stronger metal than gold would be preferable."

"Oh," said Martin, considering that. It probably made sense, given Tony's lifestyle, to go for something that wasn't going to get dented or scratched easily. "Does he have a favourite metal?"

"I believe Sir is most fond of vibranium," said JARVIS. Of course, the rarest metal on Earth. Helpful. "Among his other favourites are adamantium, gold-titanium alloys and depleted uranium."

"Right," said Martin, slowly. Of course Tony's favourite metals were all badly suited to making jewellery out of. "Um. Do they make rings out of titanium?"

"They do," said JARVIS. "A quick search reveals multiple choices at a variety of different retailers, many of them marketing as for the purposes of a marriage."

Martin picked up one of the tablets that seemed to always be lying about anywhere Tony spent any amount of time. "Can you send me that search?"

"Of course," said JARVIS.

A moment later, the tablet lit up with a page of jewellery websites. Martin started going through them.

He found a whole page of ones that included a thin gold band around the centre of the ring, slightly indented, which would hopefully protect it from being damaged.

"Do you think he'd like that one?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I don't have access to the full parameters of Sir's ring preferences," said JARVIS. "However, it does appear to fit his usual tastes and my files show that any gift from you is always gratefully received."

Martin stared at it for a moment or two. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Right. Um. Do you know his ring size?"

"I have all of Sir's measurements," said JARVIS. “Do you wish me to order it for you?"

"Please," said Martin. And that was the first step done. God, he was actually going to do this. He pictured the ring on Tony's hand. Everyone would know that Tony was his, that they belonged together. That they were a matched set.

Oh. "And one for me too," he said to JARVIS. "Uh, I don't know what size my finger is, I can find out." How did you measure a finger?

"I have that information as well," JARVIS reassured him. Of course he did. "I've put that order in for you."

"Thank you," said Martin. All he had to do now was work out just how and where he should be proposing. He took a deep breath.

The door creaked open before he could start to think about it and Tony shuffled in. He was still only wearing his boxers, but he'd draped a blanket around his shoulders. He was walking like an old man, wincing as if every movement hurt.

"You should be in bed," said Martin, putting the tablet to one side.

Tony scowled at him. "You weren't there," he said, in an accusatory voice.

He made his way over to the sofa and sank down into it, turning to rest his back against Martin, pulling his feet up onto the sofa. 

Martin wrapped an arm across his chest and held him close. "Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you."

Tony scoffed. "As you ever could. Nothing about you is disturbing. Well, okay, maybe how freaking perfect you are, but I've learned to deal with that."

Martin couldn't hold in a laugh. "I'm sorry to be such a trial."

Tony patted his hand. "Well, it more than makes it worth it when you do things like save my life."

Martin's grip on him tightened and he dipped his face to press it against Tony's hair. "Don't."

"Hey, you did awesome," said Tony. "Seriously. You kept your head and did exactly what needed to be done without freaking out. And it wasn't even a plane thing, I'm so impressed."

"I don't always manage to keep from freaking out with plane emergencies," Martin admitted.

Tony waved that away with a weak hand. "Bullshit. I've heard the goose strike story – even Douglas said you were completely calm for that."

"I didn't have time to panic," said Martin. "I suppose I didn't today either."

"Not gonna lie, I found some time to panic," said Tony. He let out a short sigh. "Christ, all my muscles ache. I don't think I'm going to be up for much today." He brightened. "Oh, hey, that means I get to miss the finance meeting. JARVIS, convey my heartfelt apologies to Pepper, yeah?"

"Of course, sir," said JARVIS.

"You should get more sleep," said Martin.

"Nah," said Tony. "I'm not tired, just achy. Hey, JARVIS, put on a film, would ya?"

JARVIS dimmed the lights and started to project a film onto the wall. Martin shifted until Tony was snuggled against him as comfortably as possible, and let himself relax.

****

The rings arrived a week later. Martin hid them away from Tony, then spent the whole day at work quietly freaking out. Was he really going to do this? Was he ready to make this kind of commitment with Tony? After all, it was one thing to say that they'd be together long enough to make moving to New York worth it, it was quite another to say that this was it for the rest of their lives.

Since Martin had moved to New York, everything had felt like smooth sailing. All the frustrations and disappointments that had been caused by the distance between them had vanished. Living together had proved far easier than Martin would have assumed, even with the additional presence of the other Avengers. Tony had managed to remain sober without any relapses, although Martin had a feeling that he had been closer to giving in on a couple of occasions than he had let Martin know.

Now that Martin was with Tony every day, he knew he didn't need to worry about supermodels or other women catching his eye. Tony might have a good look and maybe even a casual flirt, but Martin knew him well enough now to know when he meant it and when he was just putting on the Tony Stark: International Playboy persona that was only ever surface-level.

That might not continue, though. What if this was just a honeymoon period that wouldn't last? What if Tony did finally get bored of him, or their differences started to pull them apart, or-

"Are you okay?" asked Jessie. "You look like you're going to hyperventilate."

"Fine," said Martin, but it came out as a squeak so he tried again. "I'm fine."

"Right," she said, disbelievingly. "You still freaked out by the thing last week? Cos that was pretty terrifying."

Martin shook his head. "Not really."

"Oh, right, I guess you're used to it," she said. "Shit like that must happen around the Avengers all the time."

"Not usually to me," said Martin. "Tony's pretty good at making sure I'm safe."

Of course, just because he was safe didn't mean he wasn't worried out of his mind about Tony. The only thing that had really lingered from last week hadn't been the stark fear that Herr Bernard was going to kill him, or even the feel of the knife against his throat, but the sight of Tony crumpling after the taser had hit him and the moment the light of the arc reactor had gone out.

The first numb, horrified thought that had crossed his mind had been that he was going to lose Tony, and so lose his chance to marry him. Was he really trying to talk himself out of proposing now when he'd wanted so badly to have already done it then?

"He certainly turned up pretty quickly," said Jessie. "Which I am incredibly grateful for, you can feel free to pass that on."

"I'll let him know," said Martin. Tonight. He'd propose to him tonight. No more making excuses to himself to put it off. He had the rings, Tony had already said he was going to say yes, all he had to do was ask him, and stop letting all these tiny fears get in the way.

When he got back to the Tower that night, it was mostly empty. Bruce was in the kitchen, making something that looked like it was going to be a casserole.

"Hello," he said. "Good day?"

Martin shrugged as he put the coffee machine on. "It was okay. Four flights out, no real incidents." The ring box felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket, so much so that he wasn't sure he could concentrate on filling Bruce in on the full details of the flights, or the crosswind that had made the loop around Ellis Island particularly interesting this morning.

"Do you know where Tony is?" he asked instead.

"Ah, his workshop, I think," said Bruce. "JARVIS?"

"Sir is in his workshop," confirmed JARVIS.

"Right," said Martin. Should he wait until Tony was done down there? He could sort out some sort of private dinner for the two of them, maybe put on something slightly nicer than his work uniform. Or maybe he should wait until tomorrow night if Bruce was making dinner for everyone tonight. He could pick up a treat for them, perhaps Tony's favourite pizza or a nice dessert or something.

The coffee machine pinged and he realised he was finding excuses to put it off again. He took a deep breath, looking down into his cup of coffee. He and Tony both considered coffee to be one of the most important things to have a steady supply of. When he'd got his flat in Fitton and they'd gone out to buy his bed, Tony had also insisted on getting him some decent coffee, given that he didn't have to worry about students pinching it any more. In the room he'd set up for Martin, the coffee machine was a focal point and possibly the part Martin used the most. On the days when Tony's sleeping pattern matched up with Martin's, Martin got up first and made them both coffee to drink in bed together.

That was it. A symbol of their shared life. He set the machine to make another cup. When it was ready, he picked them both up and headed for the lift.

"The workshop, please, JARVIS."

Tony was completely engrossed in manipulating one of his holographic blueprints. Martin got right over to the desk he was at and had set the coffee down before Tony realised he was there.

"Spitfire!" he said, pulling his attention away. "Oh, and you've bought me coffee, fucking excellent. If you're trying to get title of best boyfriend ever, I got to tell you, you kinda already won that one."

Martin put his hand in his pocket, clutching at the ring box. "Actually, I was hoping for a different title."

Tony paused in the action of taking his first sip. "Yeah?" he asked, eyes trained on Martin's face.

Martin suddenly felt like he was caught in front of a firing squad. His mouth went dry, his palms went sweaty, and his lungs began to feel like they were being crushed.

"Yes," he forced out. "I, um. Tony." Oh god, why hadn't he planned a speech?

"Martin," said Tony. There was an air of amusement in his voice, but Martin could see anticipation there as well.

All the thoughts he'd had whilst making coffee fled from his brain, leaving nothing but a blank space. Oh god. There were no words left at all.

Tony took a sip of his coffee, eyes still resting on Martin. He looked perfectly content to stand there and wait for as long as it took for Martin to get the words out.

Martin took a deep breath. They both knew what he was going to say, he just needed to say it. And then Tony would say yes. 

"Will you marry me?" he asked in a rush, pulling the ring box out of his pocket.

Oh god, no, that was no good. He was meant to lead up with something, detail _why_ they should get married.

"Ye-" started Tony. Martin interrupted him.

"Wait, wait, hang on."

Tony shut his mouth. His air of amusement grew, but Martin ignored it.

"Tony," he started again.

"Martin," said Tony again.

Looking at his face was making this too difficult, so Martin shifted his gaze over Tony's shoulder. "Being with you is the best thing that's ever happened to me," he said, because that felt like a safe starting point.

"Better than passing your CPL?" asked Tony, sceptically.

Martin hesitated. "Joint best thing," he amended. "But, uh, I'm going to be flying for the rest of my life and, um, I want to be with you for the rest of my life as well." Okay, that was a good start. Did he need to say why? Probably. "You're, um." He dried up. Tony was so many things, why couldn't he think of any of them?

"Martin," said Tony, reaching out for the fist he had clenched around the ring box. "It's fine. You don't need to give me a rom-com speech, seriously. I was always going to say yes."

Martin let his grip relax so that Tony could take the box from him. "Maybe I think you deserve a rom-com speech," he said. "Tony, you–" His brain ran out out of words, so he just threw out the easiest truth. “I love you.”

Tony opened the box. "Oh man, these are perfect," he said. "Is that titanium? And gold, obviously, cos gold and titanium are the best combo."

He gave the box back to Martin and then held out his hand. "C’mon, c'mon, do the honours."

Martin's hand was shaking as he slid the ring on Tony's finger. When it was in place, he had to cling to Tony's hand to ground himself. Oh god, he'd said yes. He'd said yes, and now there was a visible mark of Martin's place in his life on his finger.

"Oh man," said Tony, emotion making his voice rough as he gripped back just as hard. "Okay, my turn."

He put Martin's ring on for him and then kissed him. Martin was more than happy to just give himself over to kissing Tony, letting all the pent-up emotion out against Tony's mouth as he pulled him into his arms, collapsing against him with relief.

"That was the hardest thing I've ever done," he admitted.

Tony laughed. "Seriously? But I was always going to say yes. You knew that. Especially given you bought me coffee as well, I think I've probably proposed to half the Avengers at one time or another, just cos they've bought me coffee."

"No proposing to anyone else," said Martin. "Not any more."

"Course not," said Tony. "I might brag about it a lot, though. Every possible opportunity. Kinda want to just tweet _Suck it, bitches, I'm marrying the best guy anyone ever had_ , but I'm pretty sure Pepper would have my head if we don't do it with a proper press release and all that jazz."

"Oh god, we won't have to do a press conference, will we?" asked Martin with horror. He'd stood in the wings and watched enough Avengers press conferences to know that there was nothing he wanted any less than to be the target of a baying mob of reporters like that.

"Nope," said Tony. "Just a quick statement. Uh, we may have to release a couple of photos with it, but we can just take those ourselves."

"Right," said Martin, clinging tighter to Tony. He hadn't really considered the fact that there would need to be PR about this. And even more for the actual wedding.

"Sorry," said Tony. "I know you hate all that stuff."

Martin made himself shake his head. "No, it's fine. It's part of your life, and I want to share that life, so I need to take that kinda thing with all the good stuff."

"True," said Tony. "The press are an inevitable side effect of the billionaire thing and the superhero thing and all that."

Tony always went straight to those two things, but Martin had barely considered them when mentally going through the many, many reasons that he wanted to marry Tony. All the reasons he hadn't been able to actually get out in words, because he was a pathetic tongue-tied idiot when he was under pressure.

Well, there was no pressure now. Tony was already wearing his ring.

He took a deep breath. "And with all that I get your generosity and kindness, and how easy it is for you to make me laugh – and that I can make you laugh as well, and how you've always understood the things that are important to me and respected them, and let me talk for hours about things most other people walk away from after just a couple of minutes, and how supportive you are, and the way you get so excited about being with me, even when we're not doing anything in particular, and the way you let me into your life so easily, as if it was nothing, and– and–" he was running out of air, although he was pretty sure he could have gone on for a good while longer, "and the way I feel when I'm around you," he finished. "Like I've finally become the person I've wanted to be since I was a child."

"Jesus, Martin," said Tony, in a shaky voice. "You–" He didn't bother finishing that. Instead, he kissed Martin with all the strength of emotion that Martin was feeling. "I need to have sex with you right now," he said.

Martin nodded. "Yeah," he agreed, breathlessly.

****

Tony had replaced the couch in his workshop with a larger, more comfortable one around the same time that he and Martin had started having sex on it whenever they were both down there. Why he hadn't bothered for the years before that, when he'd regularly used it to pass out on it after an engineering binge, Martin didn't quite understand, but he wasn't complaining. It meant that they were both able to fit on it when they relaxed afterwards without one having to lie on top of the other, or keep one foot on the floor to avoid falling off.

Martin couldn't keep his fingers away from the ring on Tony's hand. He rubbed his thumb over it, then intertwined their fingers.

"Here's the real question," said Tony. "How we going to tell the others? I'm thinking big announcement, JARVIS can play us a fanfare, maybe provide some banners."

"I think some of them might have already guessed what I had planned," said Martin.

Tony snorted. "Yeah, possibly, but doesn't mean we can't be totally obnoxious about it. That's kinda the whole point of weddings, isn't it?"

Martin opened his mouth to deny it, then thought about Caitlin's wedding, and shut it again. "Maybe we should try to rise above that," he said instead.

"No way," said Tony. "I want everyone to have their face rubbed in the fact that I'm marrying the best guy ever, and taking him off the market for good."

Martin laughed. "There wasn't exactly a lot of competition."

"The world is full of fools," said Tony.

"Avengers assemble!" announced Steve's voice over the intercom.

Tony groaned. "Super-villains have the worst timing, I swear they do it on purpose." He sat up, starting to pull his clothes back on.

Martin moved out of his way and started to put his own on. "I'm really hoping that they didn't know I was going to propose today. _I_ barely knew I was going to propose today."

"You'll have to come with me to the hangar," said Tony. "I guess we'll be announcing our engagement now. JARVIS, can you cue up a fanfare?"

"We don't need a fanfare," said Martin.

Tony put his hands over his heart and gave Martin his best puppy-eyes. "Ah, c'mon, Spitfire. Just a short one?"

Martin gave in. "A very short one."

Tony's face lit up and he grabbed Martin's hand, half-dragging him towards the elevator. "This is going to be awesome."

All the other Avengers were in the hangar already when they got there. Tony got JARVIS to play the fanfare as they stepped inside, making everyone's eyes turn to them.

"Do you ever worry that you're taking narcissism too far?" asked Clint.

"Nope, not possible," said Tony, then held up his hand to show off his ring. "And clearly, Martin agrees, given that he wants to marry me."

There was a flurry of congratulations and back slaps.

"Man, we really are going to have to come up with a foolproof way to have a superhero wedding that goes right first time," said Clint to Natasha.

Tony was getting the Iron Man suit on. "Pepper'll figure it out," he said.

"She's not your PA anymore," Natasha reminded him. "Or your wedding planner. She has a company to run."

"I'm sure we can do it ourselves," said Martin. "How hard could it be?"

"I'm going to remind you that you said that in a few months time," said Bruce.

"Guys, as great as this is, we do need to get on our way," said Steve. "Pittsburgh needs our help."

"You want to fly us, Spitfire?" asked Tony. "That's cool with you, right, Legolas?"

"Sure," said Clint.

Martin looked at the Quinjet, then at the assembled, costumed superheroes, and took a deep breath. If he was going to spend his whole life with Tony, he should probably get used to being dragged into every part of his life, including this one. Besides, why wouldn't he want to fly the Quinjet?

"Um, okay."

"Awesome," said Tony.

“You know,” said Steve as they all got on the Quinjet, “if Martin is going to come to incidents with us, he should probably have some kind of body armour, just in case.”

“Already on it,” said Tony. “It'll be ready in about a week. You're going to love it,” he said to Martin. “It's got those round circle things they painted on Spitfires on it.”

“You mean, the ones that look like targets?” said Clint, settling into the co-pilot seat. “That sounds like a great plan.”

“You're just jealous,” said Tony. “I mean, it's not like your costume is super-exciting.”

“You're kidding, right?” said Clint. “I'm single-handedly bringing purple back.”

Steve frowned. “I wasn't aware that purple had gone anywhere.”

Martin started the pre-flight checks. “They're not targets, they're called roundels,” he said, as he ran through them. “And they're a designation that a plane belongs to the RAF. They might complain if someone who has never been in the RAF has them. Besides, I don't need anything fancy like that.”

“You're kidding, right?” said Tony. “Of course you need fancy. You're Captain Spitfire! I'll rethink the design – you can help me, yeah?”

The conversation paused while Martin took off, guiding the Quinjet out of the hangar and towards Pittsburgh. He should probably tell Tony that sorting him out with a fancy outfit was unnecessary and that if it was going to be a problem, he wouldn't fly them any more.

Except, he loved flying the Quinjet. And part of him – the part that was about ten years old – really, really wanted his own Avengers outfit, even if he was just support staff.

His eye caught on his ring and a moment of disbelief washed over him. He was marrying Tony Stark, living with the Avengers and flying the Quinjet for them. Maybe it was time to stop thinking about things in terms of necessary and unnecessary.

“We could just use the silhouette of a Spitfire,” he said. “It's a very distinctive shape.”

****

It was a late night in Pittsburgh, defeating a group of HYDRA operatives who had gone rogue and tried to take over the city hall for reasons that never became clear. In the Quinjet, it took less than twenty minutes to fly there, but the attempt to negotiate with the group, the actual fight, and dealing with all the press and police afterwards took much longer.

By the time they got back, it was too late for Bruce to try and salvage his casserole for the night, so they just ordered in pizza. Martin had a slice or two with them, then headed up to bed. Feeling like a part of the team was great, but sometimes it was very obvious that he was the only one with a 9-5 job.

Tony came to bed some time during the night and was fast asleep when Martin woke up the next morning. He'd left a note on the bathroom mirror though, projected by JARVIS because he thought post-it notes were way too old school, saying:

_Morning, fiancé!_  
_I'm taking you out for dinner tonight, I'll pick you up from work. I'm going to talk to Pepper about a press release today as well, let me know if you want to wait a bit, for whatever reason._  
_Love you,_  
_Tony_

Martin knew Tony well enough now to know that part of him though Martin would change his mind, and that was why he'd suggested he might want to wait before telling everyone.

Not a chance.

"JARVIS, you can take down the message now."

The glowing blue letters disappeared.

Martin had a stock of post-it notes in his desk for just this kind of occasion. They were in the shape of planes, because people had a tendency to buy him anything they saw that was in the shape of a plane. He wrote a different word on each plane and arranged them in convoy on the wall opposite the bed.

Tell  
         the  
                 whole  
                          world.  
                                  See  
                          you  
                  for  
          dinner.  
Mx


End file.
